Francis the First An Historical Drama |
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| 5. | SCENE V. |
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 | Francis the First |  |
SCENE V.
—AN APARTMENT IN THE CHATEAU-DE-FOIX.Françoise discovered seated.
Enter Florise.
FLORISE.
How fare you, madam?
77
Well, Florise. Why, girl,—
Why dost thou gaze on me? Do hollow cheeks
And tear-stain'd eyes belie me?
FLORISE.
Lady, no;
But something in your voice and in your look,—
Something that is all sorrow's, only hers,—
Is grafted on the roses of your cheek,
And burns in the sad lustre of your eye.
Pardon me, sweet my mistress! but, indeed,
Since your return from court,—
[A horn is heard without.
FRANÇOISE.
Hark! from without
A horn is winded: hasten, prating girl,
And fetch me tidings of this sudden summons!
[Exit Florise.
I tremble! yet I scarce know wherefore—how
If it should be my brother?—heaven forefend!
He brings with him Laval, my promis'd husband!
Oh! grief hath wedded me for ever more;
Our bridal vow was all made up of sighs,
And tears have seal'd it!
Re-enter Florise.
FLORISE.
Please you, madam, one,
A messenger from court, hath just arriv'd
With this despatch.
[Exit Florise.
78
From court?—oh give it me!
Hold! should it be the King! pshaw, trembling fool!
I long, yet fear to look upon it—thus
(breaks the seal)
Evil or good come of it, I will read—
(Reads)
—‘This, from my most doleful prison-house,—
‘If half the love thou oft hast sworn to me,
‘But half be true, read, and deliver me!
‘This I indite in such a darksome cell
‘As fancy shrinks from,—where the blessed light
‘And genial air do never visit me,—
‘Where chains bow down my limbs to the damp earth,
‘And darkness compasseth me like a veil;—
‘I do beseech thee, by the tender love
‘That I have borne thee from thine infancy,—
‘I do beseech thee, by all strongest ties
‘Of kin, and of compassion,—let me not
‘Lie like a curs'd and a forgotten thing,
‘Thrust down beneath the earth;—let not the blood
‘That bounds in youth's swift current through my veins
‘Be chill'd by dungeon dews before its time;
‘Or thicken'd by the weight of galling fetters!’
Oh misery! my brother,—my dear brother!
(Reads)
—‘If this doth move the spirit of thy love,
‘Hie thee to court, and there, at the King's feet,
‘Kneel and implore my pardon;—do not fear
‘To let thy tears plead for me,—to thy prayers
‘Do I commit my fate; and on thy lips,
‘Whose moving eloquence must touch his soul,
‘Hang all my hopes!—Sweet sister, think upon me!’
What, back to court!—what, sue at the King's feet!
79
Must I plunge headlong back again! My brain
Is dizzy with the flocking ills that gather
All numberless and indistinct around me.
Alas! poor scroll; how his hand shook in tracing
Thy sad appeal! Oh my unhappy brother!
Why didst thou not at price of my own blood
Rate thy deliverance! but with heart still throbbing
With most unnerving and resistless love,
Shall I encounter the King's eyes, and feel
That winning is but loss; and life, and liberty,
Given to thee, the warrants of my ruin?
(Reads)
—‘I do beseech thee, by the tender love
‘That I have borne thee from thine infancy!’—
I can no more! thou shalt be rescued! yet—
Enter Florise.
FLORISE.
Madam, the messenger awaits your answer.
FRANÇOISE.
Oh maiden, read! my brother is in prison;
His fond arms that so oft have clasp'd around me,
Strait bound with gyves:—oh heaven! my dear, dear brother.
FLORISE.
Why, madam, how now? are ye lost in grief?
Are tears his ransom?—Up; for shame! for shame!
You must to court, and straight procure his pardon.
Nay, never wring your hands; they say the King
Is gentle-hearted, and did ne'er refuse
Bright eyes, whose pray'rs were tearful rosaries,
Told with devotion at his royal feet.
80
Kind heaven be with me! I will do this deed.
Oh, Lautrec! there is sorrow at my heart,
Heavy and boding!—Florise, is't not strange—
I fear—alas! alas! I am undone!
FLORISE.
Why this is madness! and your brother lies,
Meantime, in darkness, and deep silence—winging
In fancy hither,—hoping, with the hope
That is but intense agony—so deep,
That hope which anchors on so frail a stay!
Now, at this hour, he calls imploringly;
His fetter'd arms are stretch'd abroad to you.—
FRANÇOISE.
No more! no more! I will this hour away;—
Nay, come not with me; ere the night be fallen,
I shall return, successful and most blest;
Or thou wilt hear, that at th'obdurate feet
Of him, whom I am sent to supplicate,
I pour'd my life in prayers for my dear brother.
[Exeunt severally.
| Francis the First | |